“What about Marduk? What happens if Marduk is the one left standing at the end of the fight?”
“That is an unlikely scenario, Highness,” Dawes said, diplomatically. “Not to disparage your homeworld, but Marduk has been the Sick Man of the Old Federation for four generations. If it wasn’t for Tanith’s strength and Prince Lucas’ decisive action at the Battle of Marduk, then the planet and all of its dependencies would be part of Aton’s commercial empire right now. Even if Tanith and Marduk combined military forces, and took on as many Space Vikings as would enlist, then the resulting navy would still be dwarfed by Odin or Aton. And if Aton and Isis formally ally, as my master fears, then Marduk’s strength becomes far less noteworthy. No, Highness,” he summarized, “it would take a remarkable chain of events to put Marduk at the center of the future Empire.”
“You talk as if the establishment of this Empire is a good thing,” Nikkolay Trask said. “From what I’ve seen, trying to rule planets from afar is just pointless. Or extremely hard to do well. How is an Empire going to do us any good?”
“That depends upon what ideals the Empire is founded,” countered Harkaman. “If it’s Sword World vainglory, then yes, the Empire might not be a good thing for everyone. If it’s Atonian ambition and social control, then that’s not a good thing, either.”
“What would Odin’s ideals be?” asked Morland. “I’m not being facetious; I just don’t know much about Odin.”
“Odin has traditionally ruled its commercial empire with a ‘hands-off’ policy,” explained Valerie, who was very familiar with the Odin government and culture. Frequent rivals, perpetual opponents, and occasional enemies, Marduk and Odin were two of the oldest and most successful colonies of Terra, and had a lot in common.
Both were large planets settled very early on in the Federation period, and both were even better-suited for human habitation than post-Atomic Terra had been. Both Royal Houses were descended from ancient monarchies on Terra, Marduk’s from the Anzac Line of the British Royal House; Odin’s Royal Family was directly descended from the ancient Japanese Emperors on Earth, among others. The two had even intermarried at various points across history. Part of the reason why Odin and Marduk treated each other so collegially even when they were enemies was their similar approach in administering their empires. “Local affairs are allowed to be dealt with locally – Odin only directly controls five or six other worlds. The rest are left alone, as long as they pay tribute and obey Odin’s laws.”
“Regulation, that’s the key to the future empire,” Dawes agreed. “If Odin wins – or even Baldur – then one could expect a relatively hands-off approach to governance. Mostly regulating matters of interstellar trade. That would lead to greater trade and increased civilization.
“But if Aton wins, their ideals include a broad egalitarianism, a socialist-utopianism that places the individual as the least important aspect of society, a prohibition on individuals gaining power or authority outside of the Party, and direct and complete control of their dependencies. Not to mention some truly wild ideals about social responsibility.
“Consider an Atonian New Federation, for a moment: on Tanith, that would mean no private ownership of anything, state control of all resources, and state regulation of everything from defense policy to the kind of toothpaste your children use. And no private ownership of weapons. The citizen, on Aton, is utterly dependent upon the state for defense.”
“That does sound ghastly,” Nikkolay agreed, grimly. “So the Wizard thinks this can be prevented by protecting Tanith?”
“More that a strategy that includes protecting Tanith is more likely to influence the course of events during and after the war,” he corrected. “And that denying Tanith as a base to the Sword Worlds is a major part of that strategy.”
“Well, the Dragons you brought us, those went a long way towards protection,” agreed Harkaman. “The first prototypes are being installed on the Lamia, now. And the Corisande is scheduled, next. I can’t wait to see them in action.”
“Beyond the Dragons, and the design for the tower,” Dawes said, thoughtfully, “there is one other gift to Tanith that the Wizard thinks might help.” He took a microbook from his belt and put it into Alvyn Karffard’s clerical robot. In moments, schematics began to float across the screen. “Tanith has a problem: while you have a robust fleet, much of it is required here, to defend your Realm and guard the high-orbital approaches.
“Now, I’ve been studying the orbital minefields the Beowulfers use to discourage unfriendly Space Vikings – it’s a crude but effective idea, and reduces the number of ships needed to adequately cover the world. In fact, a lot of civilized worlds use a similar system to cover difficult-to-defend orbital vectors. But I’ve re-designed them.
“Instead of being mere proximity mines, exploding when a ship gets too close, by augmenting the system just a little with some classy robotics engineering and independent Abbot lift-and-drives, you can throw a far more complete net over the world. An unfriendly ship not only has to navigate the atomics in the minefield, but the orbits of the mines themselves will be constantly changing according to an algorithm controlled by the Lamia, or from a command center on the ground. A ship comes in, and suddenly as many as five or six mines that don’t recognize the transponder signal start chasing the ship until it’s eliminated. And the others can be re-tasked almost instantly to converge on the foe, long before he enters the atmosphere.”
“That’s impressive,” nodded Harkaman. “How many mines would it take to guard all of our approach vectors?”
“Fifty or sixty for each hemisphere,” Dawes admitted. “That leaves you just the equatorial region left to actively patrol. I designed the system with thirty-megaton bombs in mind, but you could go higher if you want more punch. And they aren’t cheap. But the circuitry is fairly simple, and the programming, while sophisticated, isn’t beyond your capabilities. And the whole thing would cost you about half of what a new thousand-foot warship would cost, although you’ll have to invest in a few mine-tenders for maintenance and repair. My lords and my Princess,” he said, as the proposed network appeared on the screen, covering most of the world with a dancing grid of sparks, “I give you the Atomic Veil of Tanith.”
“This is doable,” nodded Harkaman. “We can get the atomics from Beowulf, and leverage the cost with the exchange in technology to upgrade their own minefields!”
“I like it,” agreed Morland. “Anything to keep my troops running all over the place looking for Spasso again.”
“It is some classy engineering,” admitted Baron Gorram, after he had studied the schematics carefully. “And it leaves a zone a few hundred miles wide around the equator for construction and repairs.”
“Most importantly,” added Valerie, “it would reduce the number of ships we’d need to keep on hand for defense. Which would allow us to conduct a far more robust military policy. Really take the battle to our enemies.”
“Like a neobarb town’s city walls,” agreed Harkaman. “Short range defense, but it gives you the security to conduct an aggressive foreign policy with your fleet. Let’s build this one, too!”
“You’ve given us much to discuss and think about, Mr. Dawes. You have the gratitude of the Realm,” Valerie said, when it was clear there were no more questions. She had intended it as a gentle dismissal, but Dawes continued.
“Highness, if the Realm is indeed that grateful, then I beg a favor: I’ve been here over six months now, and my mission to return poor Sam Gatworth’s body to his kin is still pending. I’ve done what I can to shore up your defenses and let you know what is going on in the greater galaxy, and hopefully proven myself a friend. But I’ve about exhausted my resources in that regard. It’s time I returned to my master and briefed him on the affairs of your world, with your permission.”
That took them all by surprise. Dawes had been a constantly-helpful and nearly always reasonable voice in these councils, and despite Gorram’s misgivings he was trusted by most
of them. But Valerie had no compelling reason to keep him here.
“Very well, Mr. Dawes. I give you leave to depart, with Gatworth’s body. It is my earnest hope you will return to Tanith after consulting with the Wizard and advise us further, if that is possible.”
“That would please me very much, Highness,” Dawes agreed. “You’ve shown me great hospitality, and I have a genuine affection for the people of Tanith.”
“Shall I arrange for a pinnace to relay you home?” Harkaman asked. It was an innocuous enough question, but the intent was clear: the Warlord was challenging the Wizard’s man to reveal his master’s location, in a friendly sort of way. If a Tanith ship took Dawes home, he could be tracked.
“That won’t be necessary,” he said, smiling faintly. “I’ve already arranged transport on the next Gilgamesh freighter scheduled to land here. It will take me two or three – or six – transfers, but I should be able to make it home in good time. But thank you for your kind offer,” he added, a twinkle in his eye that meant he knew exactly why the offer was extended.
“Then we wish you well, Mr. Dawes. Give our regards to the Wizard, and our thanks. And if you happen to run across a handsome Space Viking Prince out there, somewhere, would you mind sending him home?”
Chapter Sixteen:
Uneasy Allies
His Grace, Otto, Duke Harkaman, Minister of War and the Warlord of the Realm, heaved a titanic yawn and scratched his beard, inadvertently causing him to look up and see the setting of the sun – Ertado’s Star – over the distant hills to the west.
He was shocked – he’d come into his office to clear up a few items of paperwork just after lunch, and it was already nearly eight o’clock. With a start he remembered a very important engagement that was decidedly not on his calendar, and he closed the clerical robot with a snap and pushed away the mountainous pile of actual paper that covered his desk. It was amazing how much bureaucracy was involved at running a military operation – even after his small but efficient cadre of administrators had screened out the elements that were not absolutely essential for him to see or make policy on. But there was nothing there that couldn’t wait another day.
Of course, his attitude towards such things contributed heavily to the size of the pile. He hadn’t actually been in his office for weeks, as he had helped oversee the clean-up from Spasso’s invasion and then to strengthening the defenses of the planet against a potential surprise attack from Aton – or Gram, or Xochitl, or whichever other enemies might decide to attack.
But it was time to tend to his own maintenance-and-repair. He wasn’t a young man, anymore, and his bones and joints were telling him that his claims to middle-age were growing weak. But he still felt vital enough, as he stretched his old muscles and stood. There were some things that could still arouse his energy.
He was about to call his guard and summon an aircar when his door opened and three men walked in. Anyone else would have instantly aroused his ire for disturbing him, but Dukes Valpry and Rathmore, and Baron Gorram were Peers, in fact if not name. Harkaman sat back down, after giving them a perfunctory bow.
“What can I do for you gentlemen, today?” he asked.
“We hope you don’t mind, Otto,” Rathmore said, taking a seat in one of the exquisite red-leather chairs in front of Harkaman’s desk. “We were hoping to catch you before you left. We,” he said, using his eyes to include Gorram and Valpry, who remained standing, “wanted to discuss something with you. Something about the security of the Realm.”
“If this concerns your ministries—“ Otto began. He was the last person they needed to talk to about budget matters, for instance.
“No, this is from us as Peers of the Realm, not Ministers of the Realm,” Valpry assured him. “We are . . . anxious, Otto. It’s been six months since Lucas was captured. Four since we declared war on one of the biggest civilized powers in the Old Federation. We’ve fought off attacks on our planet. Now we’re told that there’s a major interstellar war on the horizon.”
“Of all of this, I am aware,” sighed Otto. “And I share your anxiety. However, in my opinion, we’ve managed to do pretty well for ourselves, all things considered.”
“We’ve gotten lucky,” Gorram said, hesitantly. “Don’t get me wrong, Otto, your men fight like swamptigers – they put Spasso’s thugs to rights. And apart from losing the Flavia, and almost losing the Nemesis, we’ve managed to skirt disaster in space. But . . . we’re concerned.”
“Obviously,” Harkaman said, dryly. “I understand that. But what I don’t understand is what, precisely, has concerned you so much as to bring you here, when we saw each other earlier today in council.”
“It’s the Princess,” Hugh Rathmore finally admitted. “Look, she’s a sweet girl, pretty, and smart, too. I rolled my eyes when she spent a million stellars to rescue a thousand whores, but that turned out for the better. I was impressed at how she handled the Merthan affair, and dealt with the aftermath of Spasso’s raid. She really rallied the troops – that was good work.
“But I can’t help but think that we’ve been far too entangled in the affairs of the Great Powers,” the politician continued. “First the whole Mardukan Affair – and that was before her time, I understand. But since then . . . well, we’re at war with Aton, for Ghu’s sake! What the hell do we have to do with Aton?”
Harkaman blinked. “And you’re blaming Valerie for that?”
“No, no, I’m not blaming anyone but Aton,” Rathmore assured. “But . . . declaring war? I miss Lucas as much as anyone – and God knows I want him back. Right now more than ever. But he’s been gone for six months, and if they haven’t executed him yet, it won’t be too much longer. Even if they don’t, damn it, Otto, I’m just not sure that the girl has what it takes to get us through this!”
“She’s very sweet, and surprisingly tough,” Valpry admitted. “She has the diplomatic corps wrapped around her little finger, thank goodness. She’s certainly strengthened our position vis-à-vis Marduk. But . . . she’s a foreigner, Otto. We’re Sword World bred. There’s some resentment building up,” he said, ominously. Of course, Valpry’s flamboyance amplified his feelings to the point of drama, but Harkaman took it to heart.
“I like her, don’t get me wrong,” Gorram said, taking up the argument. “And she hasn’t screwed anything up . . . yet. But I know I’d feel more secure if Lucas – or someone – was around to . . . mitigate her. She’s a lovely girl, and beautiful as a summer’s day, but . . .”
Harkaman cleared his throat. “That ‘lovely girl’, gentlemen, is your sworn sovereign,” he reminded the nobles. “I tell you that to remind you of your duty, first and foremost.”
“Hey, we’re not talking sedition or rebellion here,” Rathmore said, his voice getting louder. “We’re the Peerage, damn it! Our duty is to the security and prosperity of the Realm, first and foremost! We’re bringing our concerns to you, Otto, not training armies in private!”
“Understood,” Harkaman said. “But it needed to be said. I was there and witnessed each of you take a knee and swear – on your honor – to support the Realm and its sovereigns, with your lives, your fortunes, and your whole hearts, without reservation. She’s not Angus I.”
“And we aim to make damn sure it stays that way, is all,” Gorram said, flatly. “That’s why we’re here. We’re concerned. We’re anxious. We’re looking to the leading noble of the Realm for guidance and reassurance. So get with the guiding and reassuring!”
Harkaman sighed expressively. “So let’s take a look at ‘this lovely girl’. We may have acquired her by marriage, but she has proven time and time again that she is a wise and capable monarch. I’ll confess that I had misgivings myself, at first, and only the fact that Lucas was around made me feel better. To be frank, I was worried that her ‘civilized’ upbringing and unfamiliarity with the Sword Worlds would handicap her – this isn’t a Mardukan suburb. This is a frontier world. And then she got pregnant, and had the stress of being a new mothe
r. But Lucas was around. And then he left. And Spasso attacked, that first time.
“I honestly expected her to retreat to her palace and sob hysterically, after Princes Elaine was kidnapped. But the first time she had to make a life-or-death decision, what did she do? Instead of fleeing to safety, she turned that damn combat car around, grabbed a gun, and slapped a combat helmet on her head! She charged back into the battle, and in doing so she prevented herself from being captured. Not only that, she had the troops moving within the hour – decisively, resolutely.
“You weren’t there on Mertha when we moved in, but she ordered the destruction of that neobarb fortress like she was swatting a fly – because she learned that it was a ruse to lure the fleet away, and she didn’t want to spare a moment from rushing to the planet’s defense. Then she tirelessly worked to repair the aftermath, maintain our relations with our allies, and all under the threat of assassination and attack by Spasso.
“And then, when her husband was captured, did she go to the Atonians on her hands and knees, willing to make any concession? Did she even attempt to negotiate? No, gentlemen, this ‘lovely girl’ stood in front of her people and rallied them to war. Not just rallied them, but compelled them – and laid out a plan of attack that was both effective – I hope – and within the capabilities of the Realm. She didn’t whine, she didn’t cry, she didn’t concede a damn thing – she fought. Intelligently, wisely, this ‘lovely girl’ stood there with collapsium in her spine and spat in the face of the most powerful political power she’s ever known.
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